


Suspended

by MidnightQuill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Marauders, Marauders era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 09:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightQuill/pseuds/MidnightQuill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus attempts to lure Sirius into baking brownies, however Sirius proves to be an unwilling subject. Not everything is as it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suspended

Unable to ascertain what had woken him, Sirius merely rolled onto his front so as to bury his face into the pillow and block out the sunlight which seeped into the room through the crack in the curtain. It could have been  _that_  alone that was to blame, or the splitting headache and overwhelming thirst that struck him as soon as he approached consciousness. Or it could have been Remus, perched on the edge of the bed and speaking softly as was only fitting given the circumstances. Sirius grabbed the pillow next to his, shoving it over his head to block out the noise. There wasn't a single fibre of his being that wanted to think back to last night's discoveries.

Remus had come back to the flat after a quick afternoon cup of tea with Lily to find Sirius three quarters of the way through a bottle of Ogden's. If he was going to drink away his regrets, he may as well do it with an attempt at class. It didn't take long for Remus to realise something was up, that something was out of sorts, nor did it take him long to extract the truth from Sirius. And once he had, Sirius' behaviour had been excused point blank. That is, up until the moment when he thought a ride on his bike was an extremely good idea, at which point Remus very cunningly lured him to bed only to tuck him in after relieving him of his boots and jeans.

"Sirius," Remus said again, now bringing a hand to Sirius' hair and letting his fingers run through the tangled strands.

"Go away," Sirius said gruffly, barely audible from amongst the pillows, but it was a lot more polite than uttering a curt  _fuck off_. This and Sirius' resignation to the fact that Remus would do no such thing seemed to register with the werewolf for he simply lay down beside Sirius. It was as much his bed as Sirius', after all.

"I've got an idea."

Sirius released a  _harrumph_ , one which indicated that he wanted nothing more than to be swallowed by the pillows, never to emerge but left to wallow in the sheer unfairness of it all. Only that wasn't entirely true. There was more to it than that. Sirius was ashamed. He didn't want to see anyone at work, at the Order, and he certainly didn't want to see James. Remus was only the exception because Sirius would have to go out of his way to avoid his flatmate, let alone his boyfriend, and Sirius didn't feel like putting effort into anything aside from forgetting what was excruciatingly unforgettable.

There was silence. Sirius marvelled at Remus' patience, but he refused to commend him for it out of sheer selfishness. It felt like hours had slipped by before he heard so much as a breath of a sigh from Remus, but Sirius knew it couldn't have been more than minutes. Eventually he released his grip on the sides of the pillow, partly because no matter what the circumstances Remus' amber gaze never failed to sooth the effects of the war but mostly because he was also in desperate need of oxygen.

"I'm not allowed to go to work today," Sirius said by way of explanation for the state he was in.

Remus could have said a number of things. He could have asked why Sirius would so much as conceive of going to work after what had happened. He could have asked why Sirius had even brought it up in the first place. Instead, comprehension was instant. Remus knew what Sirius was going to say even before he'd so much as thought it. He knew Sirius would be out of the flat and off fighting those who had landed him here quicker than the blink of an eye had he anywhere to go. Sirius didn't just have the day off. He was temporarily suspended from action. Remus just smiled, gentle and warm and laced with an affection that was torture in comparison to what Sirius was feeling. He didn't deserve it, not after what his actions had led to.

"All the better for me," Remus said, not peeling his eyes from Sirius' now that he was finally in possession of their attention.

Sirius quickly noted that Remus was already fully dressed, lying on top of the covers rather than  _in_  them with him. It felt like an affront and Sirius was about to call Remus up on it when he cut him off.

"Are you ready to hear about my idea?" he asked, edging closer so that he could touch his nose to Sirius'.

Had Sirius not woken to find himself already reduced to an ugly mass of everything that he hated about himself, a burning sense of self-blame, the kind that all that alcohol had done nothing to dull, and a self-indulgent pity, he might not have been so vulnerable to Remus' attack. The hangover alone was enough to put him in a foul mood and yet it measured up to little in light of what had left him wanting to spiral into self-destructiveness because he believed with such conviction that it was only what he deserved. As it was, he nodded, sighed, and resigned himself to whatever Remus had in store. But it wasn't easy. Sirius had never made it easy for anyone to care for him, let alone love him. The fact that Remus had stuck around despite this spoke volumes about what he must really feel for him.

"First, I must ask you to accompany me to the kitchen." Remus' eyes were alight with a raw devotion that made it difficult for Sirius to comprehend doing anything other than kissing his boyfriend until the world didn't seem quite so cruel anymore.

"Do I have to get dressed?" he groaned, instinctively working an arm around Remus and reeling him in as much as was possible with him under the covers and Remus still very much out.

"No. You can stay in your boxers all day if you like. I'll put the heat on."

Remus slipped from his arms, leaving Sirius to roll onto his back and contemplate following. After a moment, he seemed to reach the decision that he couldn't get any more miserable than he already was for he sat up, running fingers through his hair as he squinted at his surroundings. Moving hurt. His head wasn't the only thing that ached, his whole body protesting against each movement as he stood and moved through to the bathroom. His mouth tasted something awful, a disgusting mix of alcohol and bile that had to be dealt with.

Remus was already busy in the kitchen by the time he'd returned from brushing his teeth, extracting items and ingredients from the cupboards of a variety that Sirius had never seen before. Sirius hobbled in, his tall frame significantly less striking with his shoulders slightly hunched. For once, Sirius was the physical embodiment of how he felt, every shred of self-worth that remained to him having been sapped out overnight.

"So what's your idea?" he asked, pushing up the sleeves of an old jumper he had crawled into before coming through to the kitchen. It was Remus' jumper now that he came to think of it. As soon as he'd put it on, Remus' scent and the connotations of warmth that accompanied it enveloped him but it wasn't enough to shield him from what was bothering him, a sense of guilt which he was beginning to realise had always been and would  _continue_  to be permanently engrained in him.

"Have you ever baked?" Remus asked, emerging from the cupboard with a packet of flour in hand.

When Sirius didn't answer, Remus pressed on. He didn't really need an answer to his question. Remus had learned to bake in the muggle fashion from his mother. Mince pies around Christmas-time, Simnel Cake on mother's day, and Chocolate Cake around the time of the full moon; these were some of his more fond memories. At times like this, when the cost of the war became painfully apparent and drew the carpet from beneath his feet, they enabled him to catch himself before he hit the ground.

Sirius wasn't armed with memories like these.

"At Hogwarts, your favourite dessert was those chocolate brownies with the dates and the nuts. Well, that and spotted dick but I couldn't find the recipe."

As Remus spoke, Sirius stepped a little further into the room, his eyes following the werewolf as he darted around the kitchen measuring out various ingredients.

"As we're not at Hogwarts, I thought we could make our own."

Having laid everything out on the dining table that parted the kitchen from the living room, Remus slowed to a stop, leaning against the edge of the table as he focused his entire attention on Sirius. The raven-haired man didn't know how to react. On one hand Remus was being everything he needed him to be, and normally he wouldn't have hesitated to partake in whatever activity he'd planned for him. Remus deserved that from him. Besides, it wasn't likely that they would have gotten much baking done regardless for there were far better uses for a kitchen. But on the other hand…

"I-I don't want to  _bake._ " Sirius took a step back, revulsion tugging at his features and further compromising his otherwise handsome exterior. And suddenly it crashed over him, everything he'd fought to either contain or drown in whiskey spewing from his lips in a bitter snarl.

"You don't get it, do you. This is my fault. If I'd never left, if I'd just stuck around and put up with my  _bitch_  of a mother, Regulus might have come to his senses sooner. He might never have joined Voldemort. He might not have  _died_. This is all my fucking fault, Remus. The last thing I want to do is  _bake_."

Sirius' ability to hear his own words was hindered by the consuming force of his own heart, its furious beat overriding all other senses. His eyes scorched Remus' where he stood. The werewolf struggled not to flinch under the anguish that they displayed, a furious storm brewing in their depths. But he held his ground because he knew Sirius and he knew that the time for letting him push him away had been and gone long ago.

"Why are you even here anyway?" Sirius spat. "Why do you even put up with me? I'll only disappoint you like I disappoint everyone. I can't protect you. I can't even protect my own brother. Worse, I didn't even  _want_  to. I was quick to run off to live with Prongs but look where that got me. Look where that got  _Regulus_. Think about where I nearly got you back in our sixth year!"

This time Remus  _did_  flinch. They didn't speak of the Prank often. In fact, they specifically avoided it. Remus hadn't forgiven Sirius easily, and there was still a part of him, a voice of warning, that wouldn't let him forget what Sirius had done. Sirius had nearly made a killer out of him, all because of a schoolboy feud with Severus Snape. He'd nearly cost the Slytherin his  _life_.

But he had forgiven him all the same.

At the slight movement, Sirius was forced to look at him,  _really_  looked at him. He realised that Remus was only just holding himself together and the fissures in the walls were beginning to show. Regulus had been killed, or so they were forced to assume now that he had simply vanished from everyone's radar, just for having a change of heart. What would they do to the werewolf when they found out he was actually a member of the Order of the Phoenix? Would Voldemort send his Death Eaters after the spy, or would he simply have his werewolves tear Remus apart?

Remus appeared to have taken an interest in the floorboards, for he didn't so much as look at Sirius as he closed some of the space between them with slow steps. With a quick swipe at his eyes with the sleeve of Remus' jumper and a choked curse under his breath, Sirius moved to stand by Remus' side. Just as he had with Remus next to him on the bed, Sirius placed an arm around his waist so as to bring him closer against him.

"So what goes in first?" he asked, sniffing once before attempting to regain composure. Remus cleared his throat, eyes flickering over the various ingredients that were laid out before him.

"It's not your fault, Sirius," Remus said, handing him the bag of flour. "And if you hadn't gotten out of there when you did, it most likely would have been  _you_  who was presumed dead."

Sirius rested his forehead against Remus' temple,

"And though it may come as a shock to you, I can't lose you. If it weren't for you, I'd probably be shut up in my old room at my parents' with a copy of Poe, feeling thoroughly sorry for myself."

"You like Poe."

"But not half as much as I  _love you,_ " Remus reasoned before releasing a shaky breath. "The jumper suits you by the way," he continued, but he pressed his lips to Sirius' forehead so as to make himself feel slightly less redundant.

An arm still encircling Remus' waist, Sirius gave him a gentle squeeze to indicate that if any baking ensued they'd have to do it without parting.


End file.
